


Ruthless ˈruːθləs/

by Madelief



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mass Effect 3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, star child - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8165854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madelief/pseuds/Madelief
Summary: Shepard wakes from another nightmare and struggles to banish them.





	

**_Ruthlessˈruːθləs/_ **

_Adjective:_

_Having or showing no pity or compassion for others."a ruthless manipulator". Synonyms:[merciless](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+merciless&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIHjAA), [pitiless](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+pitiless&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIHzAA), [cruel](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+cruel&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIIDAA), [heartless](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+heartless&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIITAA), [hard-hearted](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+hard-hearted&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIIjAA), [hard](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+hard&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIIzAA), [stony-hearted](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+stony-hearted&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIJDAA), [stony](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+stony&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIJTAA), with a heart of stone, [cold-blooded](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+cold-blooded&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIJjAA), [cold-hearted](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+cold-hearted&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIJzAA), [harsh](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+harsh&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIKDAA), [callous](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+callous&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIKTAA), [severe](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+severe&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIKjAA), [unmerciful](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+unmerciful&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIKzAA), [unrelenting](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+unrelenting&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoILDAA),[unsparing](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+unsparing&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoILTAA), [unforgiving](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+unforgiving&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoILjAA), [unfeeling](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+unfeeling&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoILzAA), [uncaring](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+uncaring&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIMDAA), [unsympathetic](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+unsympathetic&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIMTAA), [uncharitable](https://www.google.nl/search?espv=2&biw=1163&bih=527&q=define+uncharitable&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjP1pS4-rLPAhUEuRQKHbWSAUgQ_SoIMjAA), lacking compassion._

Shepard sits bolt upright in bed then bends over double as she clutches her head, a million thoughts flashing through her mind while paranoia so intense grips her gut and leaves her choking for air. Why now, of all times, does her stupid brain have to recall that fucking Butcher of Torfan nickname? 

It's got nothing to do with the desperate plea on the child's face. Accompanied by whispers of a past that she can never leave behind her, no matter that it's irrelevant now.

She doesn’t bloody well need the bold, black text from an archaic 21st century search engine to tell her what she’s known for a lifetime. Caya Shepard is Ruthless with a capital R - for a fucking good reason. Look up the word Ruthless in any datacache across the galaxy and she can guarantee you’ll be presented with her beaming mug, transposed from a crappy holograph paparazzi image some bastard journalist had stolen right after she’d awoken from the Torfan debacle. 

She has no choice. It is do or die. She’s known this for fact the moment she had her first enemy in her sights, the crosshairs perfectly lined up between the bloodshot eyes. Just as with everything she has always done her entire life, her first kill was perfect. A clean shot through his brain, no mess, no fuss. Just one dead pirate captain. And again to his second-in-command. A quiet sigh, a brush of the trigger with her second finger, another dead criminal. 

She’d thought she’d feel more at taking a life. The numbness, it seems, has been ever-present. She embraces it, lives it, shutting herself off from all feeling and all emotion. The only difference between her kills now and her kills back then as a raw recruit are that the battlefields are somewhat bigger. 

_Torfan? It’s nothing, compared to this. Compared to what I must do if we are to survive. I will see millions die, if it means we’re still standing._

_What other choice do I have, after all? It’s them, or me. Maybe I have more in common with Garrus than I realise._

The destruction and the lives that have been lost under her watch - she’s punishing herself and reliving those most violent moments of her life over and over again. She pushes herself without relief, driving herself beyond her limits, seeking some kind of redemption, or escape? She couldn’t tell you which. Just that the more she forces herself past her boundaries, the less it hurts. Numbness is good, after all. 

There is no room for any other hope aside from survival. Certainly no room for stupid fucking daydreams. For just a moment, another, even more painful image sears her soul. A flash of a grin, a rumble of teasing laughter. An embrace she can collapse into, allowing herself to let go and be looked after, just for a few minutes. 

_Kaidan. Love. Life._

_Children. Wife._

_Mother. Children. Mother...._

_What the fuck does any of that mean anyway? Meaningless 21st century bullshit!_

As she shakes off the vestiges of yet another haunting nightmare, her subconscious taunting her with the very worst of her mistakes, she finally lifts her head from her hands.

There is no little boy. There are no innocent eyes, beseeching her to save him. Looking to her for shelter, for comfort, for salvation. There are no innocent eyes, scared and confused, as she fails to achieve even the most basic of rescues. 

There is no little boy. He’s just a figment of her exhaustion, an imagination triggered by a lack of sleep and an overabundance of worry. He’s certainly not a chink in her impenetrable armour she’s worked tirelessly to build. That one weak spot that she knows if she prods too hard, will shatter like the crystal glass she nurses in her hands night after long, empty night staring blankly out to a galaxy that holds no answers.

The biting loneliness caused by Kaidan’s continued absence remains, a lingering ache just below her heart. Shepard blinks, once, twice, the face of the child she loved and lost melting away as the reality of her cabin sinks in. She digs her nails hard in her palms, willing the trembling to cease. She breathes deeply, embracing the physical pain burning away the clouds of remorse and self-doubt. Her eyes search frantically, locking onto the blinking message signal with relief. There is another emergency, something else she can throw herself into and forget. 

Quickly, she throws on some nondescript workout clothing, determined to pound out the demons courtesy of Vega’s offer to beat him shitless if she needed some stress relief. Her long hair is bound tight in a thick blonde braid that she winds around her head, wincing as tears spring to her eyes, pulling the hair tighter and tighter against her scalp. Satisfied she looks the image of presentable, not a hair out of place even for a workout, she nods to herself in satisfaction.

_No one must ever know. No one needs ever know._

She is wide awake. Goal achieved. Rapidly she tidies up her cabin - a place forbidden to even the cleaning crew, and for good reason as she catches sight of the knocked-over jar, little white tablets carelessly spilling over her bedside table. 

_Shit, if anyone sees these....if he ever finds out my secret...._

‘You need to give me different sleeping tablets, Doc,’ Shepard mutters irritably, barking out a voice message to her non-Alliance registered shrink on an encrypted channel. ‘These ones don’t work any more. I need the shit that’s stronger. Wars aren’t won on no sleep. I’ll pick it up next time I swing by the Citadel. And for fuck’s sake, nothing that comes close to a hallucinogen this time! Shepard out.’

Without a backward glance, she walks smartly out of her quarters and into the lift, the iron walls slamming up in her mind and around her heart. The weak, shivering wreck of a few minutes ago is unrecognisable, compartmentalised as Shepard bricks up the tiny part of her soul that is still alive. As she steps out into the harsh light of the hangar, meeting James’s flirtatious appreciation with an even more outrageously flirtatious quip of her own, she is herself once more. 

Dispassionate. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless.

Caya Shepard does not do feeling. There is no room for regret. Life is too short - a lesson she learned in the most painful way possible. 


End file.
